


You owe me.

by nevermindthewind



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 21:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermindthewind/pseuds/nevermindthewind
Summary: Neither of them really know what to do with each other, with this shared trauma they’d do anything to rid themselves of.(post 4x02)





	You owe me.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Okay so this is completely different than anything I've ever written. But after last week's episode I couldn't get this idea out of my head so I had to give it a try!
> 
> 2) It turned out a bit darker than I expected, but this is a pretty dark show, so...
> 
> 3) I wrote this pretty fast and I'm a shit editor so any mistakes are my bad
> 
> 4) Any kudos/comments/feedback is always appreciated!

“Fine.  But you owe me, and you have to do what I say. So at least try?” 

 

He gives her a hollow laugh as he wipes the tears that had begun to fall down his cheeks. 

 

“Okay,” he says, barely louder than a whisper.  “I’ll try.”

 

“Good,” says Laurel, her lips curling up in her best attempt at a smile. 

 

It’s an olive branch. It might be a small one, but it’s the best she can do.  She doesn’t know if she can ever truly forget the horrible things he said, all of the lies and all of the blame he placed on Wes. 

 

But when she looks into Connor’s eyes she can see the guilt and grief that wracks his entire body, can see the pain that is so similar to her own.  

 

She can’t trust him with the truth about Wes’ death, not yet. Maybe she never will.  

 

That doesn’t mean he needs to suffer. God knows they’ve done their fair share over the past two years.

 

\--

 

After that night there is a noticeable shift in their relationship, and therefore in the entire group. 

 

Gone are the passive aggressive comments, the angry quips at everything Connor says.  Gone are the over eager, desperate attempts to get Laurel’s approval. When Connor announces he’s dropping out of Middleton, Laurel’s the only one who doesn’t yell or jump up in shock.  She gets it.

 

None of that seems to matter anymore.

 

\--

 

He starts coming by Wes’ apartment regularly after that.  

 

They don’t talk much, especially at the beginning.  Neither of them really know what to do with each other, with this shared trauma they’d do anything to rid themselves of.  

 

But there are days where he just can’t stand being around the others, around their frantic attempts at being normal, average law students who didn’t witness multiple murders.  And while he loves Oliver with every ounce of his being, there are times when he’s too optimistic, too set on fixing everything. 

 

There are some things that can’t be fixed.  

 

_ Maybe he’s one of them. Maybe he’ll never be normal again. _

 

But though they never talk about it, Laurel knows.  She knows the sheer amount of energy it takes just to get up everyday and act like everything’s somewhat okay.  She knows how it feels to feel as though you’re leading a double life, to feel like you’re drowning in your own thoughts.  

 

She understands how it feels to be eaten alive by your own guilt.

 

At first she merely tolerates his little visits.  She never initiates, never invites him over. But every time she hears him knock with the familiar “It’s me, Laurel,” she always lets him in.

 

She’d never admit it, but it is nice to have company every once in awhile, to feel another person’s presence.  Especially someone who isn’t constantly trying to act like everything is fine, because whatever life is right now, it is definitely not fine.  Connor knows that. So she lets him in, lets him sit with her while she works on her next move in the never ending game of chess she’s playing against her father.

 

And a month after their initial conversation, when she gets hit so hard with the grief and guilt that she can no longer push it down and she can barely breathe, let alone get out of bed, it’s Connor who finds her. 

 

She’s still in bed, curled up in Wes’ blankets and Wes’ flannel and cradling her expanding belly in her arms when he walks in carrying the pizza he’d her picked up for dinner.  

 

“Laurel?” he asks, mainly to make her aware of his presence.

 

“Not today, Connor,” she mumbles, her back still turned to him.

 

He moves closer to the bed.

 

“You need to eat,” he says matter-of-factly. “You don’t have to get up, but you do need to eat.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You know why.” Since their first confrontation he didn’t dare bring up the baby directly but, despite what she had said, Connor knew she wouldn’t want to hurt it.

 

And he was right. Slowly she rolls herself onto her back and begins to sit up. He silently takes note of her red, puffy eyes and the tear stains on her pillow as he hands her a slice of pizza, which she begrudgingly accepts.

 

They eat in silence, Connor not even bothering to ask what’s wrong. He knows. 

 

He watches her eat two pieces then puts the rest in the fridge. Before he leaves he fills up a glass of water and sets it on the bedside table. Her eyes are shut, but he knows she's awake. 

 

“Drink it if you can,” he tells her before making his way towards the door. “It helps.”

 

She doesn't make any move to acknowledge him and he doesn't linger, not wanting to make anything worse. 

 

But as he opens the door to leave he hears a faint voice come out from the bed. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

\--

 

They both had a long way to go. 

 

But at least someone understands.


End file.
